The Walking Dead 400 Days: Left Behind
by TheGeorgieB
Summary: Picking up where In Harm's Way, back at Howe's Hardware, Vince, Shel, Becca, Russell, Wyatt, Tavia and the other survivors find themselves left to pick up the pieces after the escape of Clementine's group and the murder of Carver. Still trapped by a herd of walkers, the group struggle to survive in a world ruled by the dead, where a new threat emerges in the form of the living.
1. Chapter 1: Vince

Vince

They sat in a perfect circle round the roaring campfire.

Vince counted eight of them, sat in their campchairs warming their hands over the fire, meaning three were missing. He quickly worked out that this number included Becca, Shel's teenaged sister, who now spends her nights on the roof, gazing down at the herd of walkers surrounding the complex. Also missing from tonight's gathering was Tavia, who rarely left Carver's office, where she would spend ours by the side of Hank, the third and final missing person, tending to his gunshot wound as best she could. Apart from the usual missing persons, everyone had managed to show up to tonight's meetup, despite Vince only having organised it several hours prior.

Looking around him, Vince spotted Wyatt, who sat to his right, scratching his beard. Beside Wyatt sat Vera and Tisha, who leaned close to each other and whispered, most likely catching up on the day's gossip. Lowell and Tyler were chuckling about something together; a sound that had almost become alien to Vince since the herd had arrived. Distancing himself from the group, Russell sat brooding; he'd been doing nothing but for the past few days. To his left, Vince caught Shel gazing at him. She gave him an enthusiastic smile.

It was time to begin.

Vince cleared his throat. Silence followed immediately after, boosting Vince's confidence. The only sound to be heard was the constant moan of the undead, which the wind carried from outside to echo through the halls of Howe's Hardware, as well as the occasional clatter of metal as the walkers hammered and scraped with their claws at the complex's many gates and fences.

"Thank you, everyone, for coming here tonight," Vince began, his voice bouncing from wall to wall of the enormous main foyer. "I know Bill is usually the one to call these kinds of meetings but, obviously, he's no longer with us." The others remained silent. "And, with Troy gone too, I think it's about time someone stepped up to fill his shoes," he declared, feeling the weight of the words on his tongue. "Now, I'm not saying that I'm the man for the job. All I know is that, despite his flaws, Bill Carver kept us alive. I can do my best to do the same, but if anyone else thinks that they can do a better job, now's their time to speak up."

The men and women around the campfire were silent, each of them with their eyes fixated on Vince. He noticed Lowell whisper something in Tyler's ear. He carried on.

"It's been a week since that herd outside formed, and it's number continues to grow every day with no sign of dwindling," Vince recalled. The herd had surrounded the Hardware complex the same night Carver had been murdered, and that Bonnie had helped the assholes responsible to escape, betraying them all. "That, coupled with the fact that our boiler bust a couple of days ago, with Winter right around the corner, means that this place is no longer liveable."

The news earned an orchestra of mutters and whispers from the settlers, disheartened and frightened by Vince's words. They exchanged worried looks. "Where else can we go?" Lowell cried out from across the campfire. "We can't go anywhere with that herd still out there!" Vera pointed out. "Do you even have a plan?" Tyler demanded to know. The settler's eyes were back on Vince.

"People, please!" Shel urged from beside him, raising her hands in a feeble attempt to calm the displeased settlers. "There's no plan as of yet, but that's why we called this meeting, so that we could come up with something together."

"And yet," Vera began, "I can count at least three people who aren't here."

"Four if you can't Bonnie," Lowell cut in. "That fuckin' bitch cut and tun first chance she got. She helped Luke and those assholes attract the herd. She helped them escape. She even stood and watched whilst they beat Carver to death. She's to blame for _all_ of this!"

The mere mention of Bonnie made Wyatt speak up. "Bonnie made her bed. Don't drag her into this, Lowell." It was only when it came to defending Bonnie that Wyatt would ever raise his voice so. Normally, he was more chilled out that Vince could fathom, but that was probably due to all the pot. "Besides, who says she's really with those guys? She could be spying for us or something," he suggested. It was a long shot, but one Wyatt was willing to take.

That was when Lowell stood up from his chair. "I don't care what you say," he argued, pointing a crooked finger at Vince. "The way I see it, things started turning to shit the day Tavia brought the six of you back here. I'm starting to think she should have left you all out there to rot!"

"Lowell!" Tisha barked from nearby. "How can you say something like that?"

Tisha's outrage went ignored by Lowell, who leaned over the campfire to point his crooked finger right in Vince's face. "You want to go? Fine. But _I'm_ staying right here," he assured him before turning on his heels and marching away.

Vince got on his feet. "Where are you going?" Vince shouted after him.

"To find someone who knows what the hell they're doing," Lowell shouted back before disappearing into the shadows.

That was when Vince finally knew that he'd lost this uphill battle. "That could have gone better," he muttered to Shel as the crowd began to disperse.

"Don't worry, you'll grow on them," she reassured Vince. Before them, the men and women returned to their beds. "They're just frightened, is all." She watched Wyatt pour a bucket of cold water over the campfire, extinguishing the flames with a loud hiss.

"And you're not?" Vince asked her as the two walked down the foyer, side by side.

Shel looked up at Vince. "Of course I am," she replied. _She is_, Vince thought. _I can see it in her eyes_. "Aren't you?"

"Sure," Vince replied. "But I sure as hell can't afford to let it show," he said. "Carver didn't."

"Carver's dead," Shel reminded him. "Besides, you're not like him."

It was true. Vince lacked the ferocity and brutality that had come to William Carver so naturally. He was nothing like the man. "No," he agreed. "But maybe I'll have to be."


	2. Chapter 2: Tavia

Tavia

Beneath a blood-soaked dressing of bandages, Hank's wound had begun to blister over, the skin around it starting to swell.

"You always were a tough bastard to kill," Tavia told Hank. It was true. During his time serving in the Marine Corps, Hank had suffered two gunshot wounds and a stab wound to his abdomen. Compared to that, the bullet he'd taken last week must have been nothing.

Luckily, the bullet had also passed straight though him, damaging no major organs on the way out. His only fear _would_ have been blood loss, but the others had gone as far as to donate their own blood so that that didn't happen.

Hank had been slipping in and out of a deep sleep for the past week. Right now, however, he was awake. He winced as Tavia rubbed disinfectant over his wound.

"Do you remember everything this time?" Tavia asked him. For the past week, every time Hank had awoken, he would have no recollection of what had happened the night he'd been shot, and would need reminding all over again. It was not a story Tavia enjoyed telling.

"I got shot," he recalled, searching his hazy memory. "Who shot me?"

"Alvin," she answered. "Rebecca's husband." Tavia's blood boiled at the mere mention of their names. "He's dead, thanks to you." She squeezed Hank's hand. "Do you remember anything else?"

"Walkers," he growled in a raspy voice. "They surrounded us." Tavia watched as the stocky man slowly sat up from his chair. He was weak, she could see. His wide eyes scanned the room around him until he recognised it to be Carver's office. She knew the question that was coming before Hank even asked it. "Where's Carver?" Hank asked her, his jaw hanging open.

Tavia sighed a weary sigh. "He's dead," she told him. But the way the news barely seemed to even faze Hank made her suspect that he'd already worked that part out. "They killed him."

"_They_?" Hank scratched his beard as he tried desperately to remember what Tavia had already told him many times before. "You mean Luke and the others?"

"Bonnie's with them too," she explained. "Some of them didn't even make it past the herd, though," she explained, as though the news was supposed to somehow be reassuring. "Russell swore he spotted Carlos being devoured by a bunch of walkers. They're probably _all_ dead by now." She paused, looking down at her feet mournfully. "No one lasts long out there."

Hank took a moment to process everything he'd just heard. The group had been at their strongest when they were all together. But, ever since Luke and his group had first betrayed them, the cracks in their community had begun to show. "Did we lose anyone else?" He finally asked. Tavia could tell by the way he avoided her gaze that he was afraid to hear her answer.

"A couple of the newer recruits," she answered. "Lowell and Tyler also found Troy's body outside one of the gates, but it wasn't the walkers that got him."

Hank rubbed his forehead. So much had happened in the little time he'd been out of it. "So," he began, "if Carver's gone, who's been keeping this group afloat?"

"Vince," Tavia responded, less enthusiastically than she perhaps should have.

"He doing a good job?" Hank asked her as she covered his wound with a fresh bandage.

She gave him and uncertain glance, which was enough of an answer for Hank. She was about to open her mouth when another voice cut in. "Hell no," the voice answered from across the room.

Lowell entered the office with a misplaced swagger that was humorous for a man of his height. "In fact," he continued as he approached, "if he keeps going on like this, he's gonna get us all killed."

"Lowell, what the hell are you talking about?" Tavia asked him as he approached her and Hank. Tending to Hank had taken up many hours, meaning she attended almost none of Vince's meetings.

"I'm talking about that stupid kid's so called 'plan' to leave this place," Lowell replied furiously.

"Has he not seen the enormous herd of walkers out there?" Tavia asked curiously.

"I'm starting to think he and Bonnie orchestrated this whole thing together!" Lowell suggested, as ridiculous a claim as it was. It was not, however, completely beyond belief. "Either way, the kid has to go," he declared. The words sent a cold shiver down Tavia's spine.

Hank scanned the tall, skinny, pale man stood in front of him from top to bottom, as though he was uncertain whether or not he even remembered him. His words, however, had swayed him. "If you don't think this boy is fit to lead our group, who do you suggest instead?" Hank asked.

Tavia turned to Lowell. The tall, unsightly man in the beanie hat had his eyes fixed on Hank. The stocky thirty-something year-old sat up in his chair, scratching his black beard.

"I'm looking right at him," Lowell answered in a cold, raspy voice.

With those words, an idea was planted, and a revolution had begun.

**Next time: Russell makes plans to leave Howe's Hardware, only to uncover a new threat about to emerge from within the group.**


	3. Chapter 3: Russell

Russell

The sound of Tyler's snores filled the Staff Quarters.

Luckily for Russell, Tyler's loud, booming snores masked his own sound as he stuffed fresh clothes, bottled water and tinned fruits into his backpack. Russell didn't want anybody to know he was leaving until he was already far away from this place.

The group was cracking; Russell could see that now. Vince's meeting that night, where he proposed to the others that they leave the complex, had gone as terribly as Russell had suspected it would. Now, he knew that he was far better off on his own.

Things had been so much simpler back when Russell was alone, before Nate had first pulled up in his pickup truck and shown Russell the way the world really worked now.

He caught himself thinking about Nate, wondering where he was now, when he heard the door to the staff quarters creak. Over his shoulder, Russell saw a large figure approaching through the dark.

"Russell?" Wyatt's voice asked in a whisper. "What are you doing?"

"Packing," Russell answered back as he stuffed a sweater into his backpack and pulled the two zips together. "Like I should have done months ago." He slung the heavy bag over his shoulder.

"You're leaving?" Wyatt was taken aback. "Where are you gonna go?"

"Anywhere," Russell answered vaguely. "Anywhere's better than here." He tried to step towards the door, but Wyatt blocked his path. "Dammit, Wyatt, this group is broken. Can't you see that? Without Carver, these people are gonna tear each other apart," he tried to warn him. "I, for one, don't want to be here when that happens."

Russell tried to slip past Wyatt, but the bigger man had stretched his arms outward, creating a barrier. "C'mon, Wyatt," he begged, "let me go!"

"No, Russ," Wyatt replied, his arms still raised. "Have you not seen the giant herd of walkers out there? You're gonna get yourself killed!"

"I'll figure something out," Russell assured him, looking Wyatt dead in the eyes.

Wyatt sighed. He lowered his arms. There was no convincing Russell, he realised; he'd already made his mind up. He was leaving, no matter what Wyatt had to say on the matter. "Fine," he muttered, feeling defeated. He was simply trying to protect his friend.

Russell slipped past. His hand was on the doorknob when Wyatt turned to him. "At least tell me where you're planning on going," he whispered through the dark.

"I was thinking of heading back to Georgia," he answered, his hand still on the door knob. "I never did make it to Statesboro." He noticed Wyatt's confusion. "That's where my Grandma lives. My entire family might be there for all I know." His mind began to wander. "If that doesn't work out, one of Carver's prisoners, the redneck, mentioned a safe zone called 'Wellington' up north. Maybe I'll try there."

Wyatt nodded and stroked his beard. "If you're sure that's what you want..."

"It is," Russell replied. "I..." He began to struggle. "I just want to go home," he confessed, sounding like little more than a lost child.

The door creaked as Russell slowly swung it open. "Listen," Wyatt called after him. "If you do make it to this 'Wellington' place, and you find a guy called Eddie..." Wyatt began to think.

"Yeah?" Russell asked.

"Tell him Wyatt says hi," he said, smiling hopefully.

"Will do, Wyatt," Russell promised. "You take care of yourself."

"You too, pal."

The two shared a brief hug before Russell slipped out of the quarters.

He took the hallway all the way down to the end. Passing Carver's Office, Russell heard a mixture of voices whispering and murmuring inside.

The door was ajar. Inside, Russell spotted Tavia standing beside Hank, who sat on the edge of his chair scratching his beard as Lowell, who was also present, paced up and down in front of him.

Russell had only seen Hank once since the night he'd been shot. He was pleased to see that, since then, his condition had improved.

His back to the wall, Russell listened carefully to the voices in the office.

"You're crazy," he heard Hank say. "I'm no leader."

"That's not true," Tavia argued. "You told me you had to take on the role of Commanding Office plenty of times when you served in the Marine Corps."

"Yeah, but I was just saying that to try and impress you," Hank admitted with a cheeky grin.

"You, ass!" Tavia shouted as she slapped him on his shoulder.

The three of them laughed together. Russell was even chuckling too. He was tempted to go in there and join them, but something stopped him.

When the laughing dwindled, Lowell spoke up. "Listen," he began, "you've got the makings of a leader more than anyone else around here; especially that prick Vince." That was when Russell began to worry. "Were you to go through with this, you'd have my full support."

Hank sighed. "I don't know," he said, rubbing his aching forehead. "I know you guys would have my back, but what about the others? I doubt they'd feel so good about me taking over this place."

Lowell shrugged. "Then we take this place by force. Either way, we'll be right behind you."

Russell felt his heart begin to race. He knew as soon as he heard them that those words had not been meant for his ears.

He backed away from the door, his hearth thumping in his ribcage.

At that moment, Russell was faced with a choice.

If Hank, Tavia and Lowell truly planned on taking this place by force, Vince and the others would have to be warned. It might just save their lives. However, Russell could just as easily leave this place behind before the three of them could ever know that he'd been there listening the whole time.

He found himself pacing up and down the hallway as he struggled with the dilemma.

Seconds later, he stopped and turned, only to see that he had no choices left.

There in front of him stood Lowell, a .44 magnum gripped in his hand, pointed at Russell.

Russell's heart sank. He raised his hands slowly.

"Didn't your Mommy ever tell you that eavesdropping is rude?"


End file.
